


First Days Suck

by TheGreatElisaMousy



Series: Chaos in College [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Asshole Teacher, Blindness, First Day, Hemophilia, I'm Sorry, but they're both so oblivious, implied because it's obvious they love each other, it's painful, the Host doesn't deserve this, understanding teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatElisaMousy/pseuds/TheGreatElisaMousy
Summary: First days are hard enough. Being blind, navigating the world through narrations and visions brings with it a whole new set of difficulties.
Relationships: The Host/Dr. Iplier (implied)
Series: Chaos in College [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570645
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctor_Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/gifts).



> Alright, more Host-centric this time! I just wanna say that this is pretty painful for me, at the moment, because it's SO obvious that these two boys are madly in love but they're both so oblivious. But I know how I want them to get together, so I can't get there quite yet.
> 
> Also, as a quick context: The Host has hemophilia, and under certain circumstances (such as high negative emotions), his sockets can and will start to bleed. (It also happens when he has visions or activates his Sight, where he can see in more detail than just from his narrations, if I've relayed that information correctly). I'm not entirely sure which part of the series would be the best for a reference here, hence the written out context.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Host has two classes on his first day, and they end very, very differently.

The Host carefully placed his book in his bag, quiet narrations guiding his hands. He wouldn't need anything for Intro to Lit, because they'd only be going over the syllabus, but his Intro to Psych class would gloss over the syllabus and get straight into the introduction. While his visions were sometimes fairly useless—not to mention annoying, when his sockets would begin to bleed, especially first thing in the morning—sometimes they could be relatively helpful.

Class didn't start for another half hour, but it would take probably a good fifteen minutes to get to the quad at a leisurely pace, and he didn't want to run first thing in the morning, and he wanted to get there early, and explain his... unique situation to the professor. Dark was still in the kitchen, moving slowly, no doubt in pain. There wouldn't be that much of an issue if he revealed himself at least to the townhouse. All that effort in constantly holding in his aura had to be taking a toll on the demon.

But, that wasn't really the Host's problem.

"You have my number if you need me?"

The Host paused, hand on the doorknob, before turning to Dr. Iplier. He smiled. "The Host will be fine, but he thanks Dr. Iplier for his concern." With that and a nod in farewell, he was on his way.

He couldn't quite understand why Dr. Iplier cared so much. The doctor hadn't known the Author for very long, but he had to have realized what a psychopath the man had been, and the Host had even told him a few of the things he'd done, though he'd refused to go into detail on any of it. And yet for some reason, Dr. Iplier was constantly offering his help. He recognized that the Host wasn't an invalid, of which he was grateful, but there were some things the Host just couldn't do. Change his own bandages, for example. It was hard to properly tie them into place, for one thing, and whenever he bled from a particularly distressing vision, he tended to do more harm than good.

But whenever he needed it, Dr. Iplier was there, stopping the bleeding, cleaning his sockets, and changing his bandages with a gentle hand. It just didn't make any sense.

The Host was aware of the stares he was receiving as he entered Stirnco Hall, but he chose to ignore them. He made his way to the classroom, arriving at about 9:50. The professor was already inside, but thankfully, no other students had arrived yet. He stepped inside, preparing himself for whatever may be to come. If he'd had a vision of this part earlier, that would have been much more helpful, but he was trying to avoid forcing visions these days unless absolutely necessary. It was inconvenient at the best of times, excruciating at the worst. And of course, there was the blood.

"Dr. McMann?" he asked.

The woman looked up from the pile of papers she was skimming through, and even without his narrations, he would have easily been able to imagine the confusion on her face. "Can I... help you?"

He took a breath. "Yes. The Host is one of Dr. McMann's psychology students, and he wanted to make her aware of a few things. The Host wears these bandages because he is blind," he began. "He would prefer not to talk about the incident, but as Dr. McMann can probably tell, the Host speaks in third person. He would prefer not to talk about that, either. And the Host also thought that Dr. McMann should be aware that... he doesn't expect her to understand, but the Host... narrates. Words of what is happening around the Host simply come to him, and when he says them, he gets a fairly clear image of what is happening around him. The Host is careful to keep them relatively quiet," he added quickly. "But they are near impossible to stop, and it would be inadvisable to try. The Host apologizes for any disruption this may cause..."

Dr. McMann was quiet for a moment, and the Host was starting to get nervous. She probably thought he was insane. Or at least weird. And she'd probably end up kicking him out of class because he was disrupting it and distracting everyone. And then everything would be ruined and Dr. Iplier...

"Whoa, hey, calm down," the professor said, drawing the Host out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry about that, I just wanted to see what you were talking about. Now, I'm not gonna pretend to understand it, but this is clearly something you need, so we'll work with it. I'll work out an alternate testing location for you. We won't need it for a few weeks, but that sounds like something we'll need."

The Host smiled, body sagging slightly in visible relief. "The Host thanks Dr. McMann," he told her. She simply smiled at him, and he took a seat near the back. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Students began slowly filing in, though everyone seemed to avoid the Host. Fair enough, he figured, considering they probably thought he was weird, or a freak. It was, unfortunately, to be expected.

The last student to enter, though still a few minutes before class started, was Dark. The Host knew that the demon saw him immediately, and started looking around for anywhere else to sit. It was a full class, however, so the Host simply nudged the chair next to him back. Dark grumbled, walking over and not saying a word to him.

To the Host's relief, Dr. McMann didn't make a big deal in front of the class about him. He was almost sure that she would launch into a brief explanation of what little she knew, drawing all attention toward him. Instead, she just glossed through the syllabus as the Host knew she would, telling them all to read through it more thoroughly as homework, emailing her if they had any questions and signing the back sheet and returning it. The Host already had his book out when she was telling them to open it.

The student sitting directly in front of the Host raised her hand. When called on, she said, "Um, no offense, teach, but you hear this guy behind me talking, right? It's really annoying."

The Host went rigid. What would she say now that this seemed to be an issue with the other students?

"The Host already talked to me about it," Dr. McMann said. "He can't help it, so the best I can do is ask you to try to ignore it."

He smiled softly to himself. At least, if nothing else, Dr. McMann had his back.

* * *

If only his Intro to Lit class had gone this well. He'd come early again, in hopes of talking to this professor, Professor Haldrin, but when he'd arrived, the room was completely empty. Just like in psychology, he took a seat near the back and waited. His concern only grew as the clock continued to tick down and the professor still hadn't arrived.

Finally, at precisely 12:00, with no time for any discussion, Professor Haldrin walked in. The Host took an instant dislike to the man as soon as he opened his mouth. He began with role call, and there was just something about the way he spoke that rubbed him the wrong way.

"The—" Professor Haldrin cut off. "What the fuck kind of name is 'the Host'?"

The Host had to bite his tongue to keep from responding, and to prevent any narrations from revealing his bitterness. He simply raised his hand for attendance.

There was a pause, and the Host didn't like it. He let his narrations continue, as quietly as he could, and as his did so the professor approached his desk.

"I'd prefer it if you kept quiet during attendance unless I'm calling your name," he said. "And take off that ridiculous blindfold."

"The Host is blind," he explained. "And it's not a blindfold, it's a bandage."

Professor Haldrin crossed his arms. "Oh, really? _Normal_ blind people wear sunglasses, so I have to admit I'm a little skeptical. Take them off and prove it."

"The Host would really rather not."

"Well I think 'the Host' doesn't have a choice in the matter." Professor Haldrin's voice hardened. "Either take them off, or I will. And stop talking like that, it's obnoxious. You're trying for attention, well believe me kid, you've got it."

The Host's fists clenched. "The Host can't." He didn't offer up any further explanation.

Before he could react, there was a hand on his bandages, and suddenly they were ripped from his face, cold air from the air conditioned room filling his sockets. The stress of the confrontation had already been building, and the shame of his disability being laid bare like this... he could feel his face burning, and just as he felt a single drop travel down his face, someone screamed.

He snatched the bandage back from the professor, but before the man could say anything, the Host was striding out the door, holding the bandage over his sockets with one hand, reaching for his phone in his pocket with the other, doing everything he could to hold the emotions in. He made it to the bathroom before he broke down, the embarrassment, shame, stress, and horror of the situation hitting him in full force. He sunk to the floor, hand shaking as he carefully pulled up Dr. Iplier's contact, bandage slowly filling with tears and blood as his shoulders shook.

The doctor picked up on the second ring.

"Host?"

"The Host needs Dr. Iplier to come to the bathroom on the second floor of Okrand Hall," the Host said between sobs. "And bring new bandages."

"Hold on, wait, are you okay?" Dr. Iplier asked, and the Host could hear him gathering things in the background.

"No," the Host replied quietly, shaking his head. "Please hurry."

* * *

It didn't take Dr. Iplier long to arrive, which slightly surprised the Host. He had managed to stop crying, but he was still bleeding, and the Host was sure he was teetering on the edge of consciousness by this point. Stupid hemophilia.

"What happened?" Dr. Iplier asked as he plunged a needle into the Host's neck. No doubt a coagulant. Considering how long the Host had been bleeding, they might not have had much time to try to stop it with pressure.

"A professor... didn't believe the Host when he said he was blind. He... wanted to see for himself." The Host hissed in pain as the alcohol-dipped cotton ball touched the sensitive tissue of his sockets.

"Sounds like a total douchebag," Dr. Iplier said. "After this is taken care of, let's go to the dean's office. If that professor was so ready to do something like this, I don't doubt he's done similar shit before." He paused. "But, how about we get you something to eat, first?"

The Host nodded weakly. "The Host would like that very much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially just gonna be one chapter, but I kinda feel like this is a good place to stop, and I don't know about you, but I, at least, wanna see Professor Haldrin face some kind of consequences, don't you?


	2. Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the shit-show that was the Host's first day, he's looking to do something about it.

"What do you mean, there's nothing you can do?!" Dr. Iplier yelled. The Host's arms wrapped around himself, and he tried to make himself as small as possible. He should have known.

Professor Haldrin was on tenure. He was on fucking tenure, meaning he could be as shitty as he wanted to his students, and as long as there was no illegal activity, he could get away with whatever he wanted. And the Host was pretty sure that, however immoral, there was nothing illegal about shaming a student.

"I mean, there's nothing I can do," the dean replied. It had been a near miracle that they'd managed to get in to see him within a few hours, but it looked like that was for nothing.

Dr. Iplier leaned forward on the desk. "He _humiliated_ the Host," he told the dean. "And if I hadn't been called, that could have _killed_ the Host. He has hemophilia, and high stress situations can make his sockets start to bleed."

"Which I'm sure we could use to make a case, _if_ we had any proof."

"Proof? How about a classroom full of students who all saw it?" the med student snapped. "There were probably twenty other people in that room that could back us up."

"They won't," the Host spoke. Both the dean and Dr. Iplier turned to look at him, but he spoke exclusively to his friend. "They won't want anything to do with this. The Host and Dr. Iplier should just go..." And without waiting for proper dismissal, he grabbed Dr. Iplier's sleeve and dragged him out of the room.

"I can't believe you're just giving up that easy!" Dr. Iplier exclaimed. "You can't seriously tell me you're going to just take this for the next four months!"

The Host shook his head. "The Host will just drop Intro to Lit." He shrugged half-heartedly. "Twelve credits is still considered a full-time student. He'll just make it up next semester."

"I wish the staff here were more helpful," Dr. Iplier muttered. "You shouldn't have to drop a class because of a douchebag teacher."

That gave the Host an idea.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, the Host would never be up this early on a Tuesday. His classes didn't start until noon, but Dr. McMann's office hours were from nine to ten, and then 1:30 to 2:45, and he had Intro to Disability Studies during the latter. She may not be his advisor, but he knew he could trust her.

The door was slightly ajar when he arrived, so he knocked before nudging it open.

"Come in," the woman said, and he did so. "Oh, Host! What can I do for you? Did you need help with the syllabus?"

He smiled a little. "The Host doesn't have much trouble with reading. But..." His smile dropped. "He could use some advice."

"What's wrong?" she asked. She motioned for him to sit, seemed to catch herself, and was about to speak when he did so. She was quiet for just a brief moment. "Your narrations told you I did that?"

"They did."

"That's certainly handy. Okay, so tell me what's up."

The Host rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. "The Host had a problem with a professor yesterday. He... he ripped off the Host's bandages in front of the entire class, and berated him for his name and the way he speaks. The Host went with Dr. Iplier to the dean, and was told there was nothing they could do because the professor is on tenure."

"It was Haldrin, wasn't it?" she asked. The Host nodded. "I seriously don't understand why they let a man like that teach here, much less put him on tenure..."

"The Host can't go back to Lit 100 with Haldrin, not after that," he continued. "But his friend Dr. Iplier doesn't want him to just drop the class."

"You could always take it with another professor," she told him. "I know the other man teaching it, Darvelle. He's a good man. He might tease you a bit, but he does it to everyone and he knows when to stop. _And_ he won't push your boundaries like that. Are you free Monday, Wednesday, Friday at one?"

The Host nodded. "The Host's only two classes those days are Psych and Lit."

"He should be in his office now," Dr. McMann said. "Just down the hall. Do you have time to go talk to him with me?"

He nodded again, following her out of the room and three doors down where a large man sat at his desk, a book in front of him. _Skulduggery Pleasant_. The Host hadn't heard of that one before.

"Dianna!" the man, presumably Darvelle, said. "What can I do for you?" His gaze turned to the Host. "Who's this?"

"This is the Host," Dr. McMann told him. "He's a student of mine, and he's having some trouble. He's taking Lit 100 with Haldrin."

Darvelle visibly winced. "Oh, boy," he said. "What'd he do?"

The Host shifted uncomfortably, and Dr. McMann stepped in again. "The Host has a few... interesting quirks, and Pete harassed him for them."

"And put the Host in a lot of danger," he finally spoke up. "Indirectly, so 'no one can prove anything'."

"You didn't tell me that."

He nodded. "The Host has hemophilia, and when he gets extremely stressed, his—he can start bleeding. The Host was nearly unconscious by the time Dr. Iplier got to him."

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Darvelle muttered. "Let's get you out of that class, then. I have a few open seats in my 1:00 class, Weidmann 107, if you're able to make it."

The Host nodded. "How... How does the Host go about adding or dropping a class?" he asked.

Darvelle opened one of his desk drawers, rummaging for a bit before producing a half sheet of paper. He filled out a quick portion of it and signed it before holding it out to the Host. It was then that he paused, frowning. "Wait... you can't sign this, can you?"

He paused. "The Host can later. It's... one of his 'quirks'." He knew he could easily activate his Sight for the brief seconds it'd take to sign his name, but with Dr. Iplier once again all the way back in the townhouse, he wasn't willing to play that kind of game two days in a row. "Will Darvelle be here around three this afternoon?"

"My official office hours end at three, but I can stay a few more minutes to help get this squared away," he promised.

"So... all the Host has to do is sign one sheet of paper and he won't be in Haldrin's class anymore?" the Host asked.

"Well, he needs to sign it, too," Dr. McMann told him. "But I'll take it over to his office after this and bring it back. Sound good?"

The Host just smiled gratefully at them both.

* * *

The Host waited impatiently outside Berman Hall for Dr. Iplier. As soon as the other man approached he practically dragged him to Darvelle's office.

"So, you're going to be the Host's new Lit professor?" Dr. Iplier asked when he stepped inside.

"That's the plan," Darvelle replied. "You must be 'Dr. Iplier'." At the confused look he received, he elaborated, "The Host mentioned you when he told us what happened."

"Us?"

"The Host went to Dr. McMann first," the Host explained. "She's the one that brought him here." He turned to Darvelle. "Can the Host have the paper, please?"

Darvelle slid it across the table. "Tomorrow, you don't have to worry, by the way. Dianna—Dr. McMann—told me what you told her yesterday."

The Host made a mental note to thank the psychology professor tomorrow. She didn't have to help him out like that, and he was really grateful she did.

He removed a pen from his pocket, clicked it, and activated his Sight. "Haldrin signed it?" he asked in slight disbelief. Part of him had honestly thought that the man would refuse out of spite.

"Dr. McMann had to argue with him for a bit over it, but—wait. How did you—?"

He found himself grinning. "The Host has many secrets," he said, looking back down at the paper and signing his name on the required line in his neat, elegant script. Once he was done, he turned his Sight off, already feeling the blood beginning to pool in his sockets and soak through the bandages. Before Darvelle could say anything about it, he added, "This is normal. It's why the Host brought Dr. Iplier. So, how long will this take to go through?"

"Officially? A day or two. But you can just show up to my class tomorrow, anyway," Darvelle assured him. He seemed a little uneasy about the blood, but the Host was just grateful he didn't press. "We teach the exact same books, so you're good there."

"The Host thanks Darvelle for this. Really," the blind student said, hoping he was accurately conveying the depth of his gratitude. "He will see him tomorrow, then."

"Looking forward to it," the professor replied.

Dr. Iplier smiled. "This is great, and I'm really happy for you, but let's get to a bathroom so we can change those bandages, huh?"

The Host just laughed before heading out with a wave over his shoulder. He never would have imagined this was possible yesterday.

Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe me, I'm probably just as mad as you are that Professor Haldrin didn't get his comeuppance. But unfortunately, sometimes shitty people get given tenure, and then there's really nothing anyone can do about them being a douche, and I felt that while firing him, or at least putting him in front of a review board, would be the simple solution, it would really complicate the Host's academic career for the moment. Simply transferring from one class to another, however, both simplifies it, AND widens the Host's support net among the staff. (I do kind of admit to basing Darvelle on one of my old professors, who shall remain nameless. He was an awesome professor, and if I can't keep the Host as consistently being Dr. McMann's student—he's not a psych major or minor, after all—I could give him an awesome professor to stick with. He's probably gonna be taking several classes with him in the future. Over my academic career, I took three with the professor he's based on, so...)
> 
> Anyway, next time is a funny one, I promise! We're going back to Dark, 1) because I love him, and 2) he done fucked up.


End file.
